


I feel you close (like you wanted me to)

by whynotcherries



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Couch Cuddles, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Snacks & Snack Food, Tallahassee Era Swanfire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whynotcherries/pseuds/whynotcherries
Summary: "She shrugs, “Almonds are like the candy of nuts,” she mumbles, “they’re too sweet to have come from a tree,"-"Some Tallahassee-era fluff with some modern era angst.
Relationships: Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	I feel you close (like you wanted me to)

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiii, I feel like this is really short but I'm too lazy to keep writing because once again it's really late and I should be asleep. Anyway, I tried to write some Swanfire but I am having a *block* and it's so so so difficult to come up with ideas so I stole one from a list (I don't know how to link things or I woulddd I'm sorry). I hope you like it :)

“We have chips- I think that might be it? Wait, trail mix! Trail mix, also,” Neal says, rifling through the bag wrapped around the headrest to the passenger seat of the car. He grabs both of them, pulling back to show Emma, “okay, chips or trail mix?” 

She’s a little out of it, he can tell, so he ultimately decides trail mix is probably the way to go. He’s not sure about the science behind it, but he’s heard you’re supposed to give people sugar when they’re lightheaded, right?

“Here,” he mumbles, handing her the bag and throwing the chips back into the tote on the chair.

“Need help?” he asks, watching as she tugs really, really pitifully on the bag. She shakes her head, of course, denying the help. He nods, looking down at the steering wheel as she struggles for another solid minute. He glances up at her and without meeting his eyes, she passes it over.

He could get it in one try, he really could, but he feels like that would be rubbing it in so he pretends to struggle with it for a second. He passes it back to her and she mumbles a thanks as she reaches into the bag and pulls out a handful of nuts.

She sighs, putting everything but the chocolate chips and M&M’s back in the bag. He snorts a little, trying to make it look like he’s not watching her.

“What?” she asks, giving a weak laugh, “almonds are weird,” she says, leaning back into the chair.

“Hey! Don’t insult almonds like that,” he leans forward and drapes his arms on the top of the steering wheel, resting his head on them while he watches her.

She shakes her head, “They _are_ , okay? Cashews are better,” she mumbles.

“What’s less weird about cashews?” he asks, tapping his hand on the steering wheel to the beat of the song they have playing softly on the radio.

She shrugs, “Almonds are like the candy of nuts,” she mumbles, “they’re too sweet to have come from a tree,” she says, chewing off the shell of an M&M.

“Bananas come from trees,” he argues, gesturing as best he can in the position he’s in.

She pulls a face, “Never said I liked bananas, either.”

And that was the day before he left her at the train station.

He was never able to eat almonds after that.

* * *

“I brought snacks,” she says, smiling as he opens the door, “biscotti and cookies. They might mean the same thing but I don’t know the difference,” she explains.

He shrugs, “Fancy cookies vs. regular cookies, I guess,” he says, letting her take the different cookies out of the bag at the counter.

“Hey, they are _both_ fancy cookies,” she argues, pushing them onto the counter.

He nods, grabbing her arm and pulling it, “Yeah, I know, come on! I wanna start the show,” he urges.

She nods, grabbing both boxes of cookies and following him to the couch. He sits and she plops down beside him, cuddling into his side as the title screen appears on the TV.

About five minutes into it, he reaches for the biscotti on the coffee table, opening the little plastic case and taking one out.

“Almond, huh?” he asks and she nods, grabbing one from the case, “I thought you didn’t like almonds,” he says, trying to get used to the taste of them as they talk.

She shrugs, “It grew on me,” she says with such nonchalance that you’d think she didn’t remember that conversation, “it reminds me of you,” she says, cuddling up further against him.

He tears up a little bit and squeezes her closer to him with the arm wrapped around her.

They have almond biscotti at their wedding two years later.


End file.
